Present time

As the years passed, they felt like the pages of an old book, each one bringing comfort but also a bit of sadness. I learned to handle the sadness, living with the emptiness left by Bella's absence. It was like putting away precious memories, placing the pain of my childhood in a hidden part of my heart, like an old photo that reminds you of good times and sad times. Even though I had put it away, Bella was always there in the background, a soft voice in quiet moments, a faint memory in my mind. Sometimes, especially during long, quiet nights when the crickets outside were loud, and the wind made the trees sound like they were crying, her absence felt very real. It was a bittersweet feeling, a memory I couldn't fully grasp but couldn't forget. The memories of our childhood would come back so clearly that it felt like I was reliving those days, with all the joy and innocence. I would remember her smile, her laugh, and how it felt to hold her hand as we ran through the tall grass, as if it had happened just yesterday.

Over time, I made new friends who became like strong, old trees on the reservation. Embry and Quil, my goofy friends, became my closest buddies, my confidantes, and partners in everything. They shared my laughter, my frustrations, and all the weirdness of growing up. They were always there for a game of basketball by the lake, a late-night chat under the stars, or just to sit quietly by the fire, listening to the crackling wood. They weren't replacements for Bella; they never could be. They were a new chapter in my life, proving that life goes on after loss and that there's room for new friendships and new beginnings. At home, the house felt bigger and quieter, always reminding me of the distance between us. It was just Dad and me now, and I missed my sisters. Rachel had moved to busy New York City, chasing dreams I admired but didn't fully understand, while Rebecca was living in Chicago, building her life there. They still called often, and sometimes visited, bringing laughter and energy to our home. But it was never the same as when we were all together. We were growing up, taking different paths, but we remained a family, connected by our shared memories and the unspoken love we had for each other.

Now, at fifteen, life felt predictable, a routine that was both comforting and stifling. Going to high school on the reservation had become just a routine. The classrooms, hallways, and faces all felt like echoes of the past year, as if time had stopped. It was like going through the motions, each day blending into the next. Inside, I felt a constant sadness, a feeling that something was missing. Bella's absence was always there, a song I couldn't hear but always felt. It was a void that couldn't be filled, a longing that couldn't be silenced.

One evening, as the sun set and cast long shadows across our cozy kitchen, I came home to find Dad had already made dinner. The familiar smells of his cooking usually brought me comfort, but something in his demeanor made me nervous. He moved slowly, his gaze distant and thoughtful. We sat at the old wooden table, the silence between us heavy. I couldn't stand it any longer and blurted out, "What's going on, Dad?" my voice shaky with nervous energy.

Dad took a deep breath, filling the room with the weight of his words. He looked at me, his eyes a mix of concern, anticipation, and a hint of sadness and hope. Finally, he spoke, "Charlie called," he said, his eyes searching mine, "Bella is coming back to Forks... to live with him."

The words hit me like a shockwave, each one vibrating with importance. I froze, my mind blank, struggling to process the news. Bella was coming home. After all these years, she was actually coming back. A rush of warmth flooded my body, followed by a mix of disbelief, excitement, and an old longing that stirred to life. It was like a part of me that had been buried was suddenly alive again. The news was both joyful and terrifying.

Looking back, it was probably embarrassing, but I reacted like any fifteen-year-old boy with a secret crush on his childhood best friend would. My heart pounded, my hands trembled, and I felt a mix of nervous energy and excitement. I couldn't help but ask, "Really, Dad? When? When is she coming back? Tell me everything!"

Dad chuckled, his face softening with a smile. "Next week, Jake," he replied, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, you should have seen your face! It was priceless! You looked like you'd seen a ghost or won the lottery. Or both."

I felt my cheeks flush with heat, and my ears burned as a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. I tried to act nonchalant, like it was no big deal, like I wasn't completely losing my mind. But the truth was, it felt like the world had suddenly tilted on its axis, with the very laws of physics shifting towards the gravitational pull of Bella's return.

Dad, of course, wasn't letting me off the hook that easily. He laughed again, his eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth, and began to tease me relentlessly about my reaction. His amusement was a soothing balm to my own chaotic thoughts. He kept bringing up the look on my face, mimicking my wide eyes and stammering words, and ensured I would never forget this moment of absolute, pure embarrassment. But his teasing was also a sign of his love, a way of connecting with me in a way that only a father could. "Don't worry, kiddo," he said, finally relenting with the teasing, his voice softer now, filled with genuine warmth. "You'll get your chance to see her again. Just try not to faint when you do, huh? I don't want to have to carry you home, especially if it's your first real encounter with her in ages, son."

Despite the teasing and the lingering flush on my face, I couldn't help the flutter of hope that had bloomed in my chest like a fragile flower, pushing through the cracks of my cynicism. Bella was coming back. After all these years of silence and separation, maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time. Maybe we could pick up where we left off. Maybe we could be friends again. Maybe, just maybe, I would finally have the courage to tell her how I really felt.

As we finished dinner, the warmth of the food in my stomach did little to soothe my jumpy nerves. I found myself lost in daydreams, my mind conjuring up vivid images of seeing her again. The sense of longing now mixed with a newfound, vibrant excitement filled me with both trepidation and thrilling anticipation. I could almost feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the thought of seeing her again, the anticipation both exhilarating and utterly terrifying, as the years of longing threatened to explode into something more.